Last Sunday, taking advantage of the warm Memorial Day weekend weather, I fled the bucolic pastures of central Pennsylvania with my friend and fellow blogger Jog for the swank, urban sophistication of Washington D.C. Why? To take in the current Saul Steinberg: Illuminations exhibit at the Smithsonian American Art Museum.
Those of you who have heard of Mr. Steinberg no doubt primarily know of him via his New Yorker covers, particularily this New Yorker cover, which has been adapted, altered and abused in a seemingly endless variety of ways. That cover is only the tip of the iceberg however, as was full of a restless experimentalism, playfulness and a strong cartoonist’s sensiblity, all of which is currently on display at the Smithsonian.
The exhibit cuts a wide swath across Steinberg’s life, featuring work in a number of adjoining galleries from the 1930s to the 90s. (He died in 1999 and indeed, there’s even a drawing of various years — “1997,” “1998,” etc. — dotting a barren landscape, connected like highway stops, while 2000 looms ominously just over the horizon.)
Selected works run the gamut from sketches to watercolors to magazine illustrations to sculptures and masks to set designs for operas to, of course, New Yorker covers.
All of which should give you some idea of the artist’s restless nature. Judging by the work on display, Steinberg viewed any project as a challenge (or more apporopriately, a puzzle to be solved) and seemingly had little to no regard for the division between high and low art, as his drawings incorporate cubism and surrealism as much as they do the venerable tradition of gag cartoons and even the underground comix movement of the 1960s (Jog said he thought some cityscapes reminded him of Skip Williamson. Upon reflection I think I see a bit of Victor Moscoso too).
That drive for experimentation extends to Steinberg’s artistic set of tools as well, which apparently consisted of whatever happened to be lying around his desk at the time. Rubber stamps, hotel bills, watercolors, colored pencils, crayons, ballpoint pens, post office stamps, a wine bottle label — it’s all grist for the mill and it’s truly dizzying to see such his willingness to incorporate whatever happens to be on hand into his art.
For example, there’s a collection of Smithsonian stationary that Steinberg made use of while taking up the first artist-in-residence postion at the museum. The doodles on these sheets incorporate the stationary logo in a variety of sly and even silly ways that in some cases even comment on the institution’s legacy and status.
To a large extent that aforementioned mill seemed to be primarily interested in producing artifice (he would often pose for photographs wearing a brown paper bag mask). Steinberg seemed to be obsessed with creating replicas; trompe l’oeils that resembled documents, letters, books or personal memorabilia, but that on closer inspection turned out to be made of wood or featured nonsensically, phony calligraphy. He even built a small replica of his library desk, thereby stating his influences for all the world to see.
So yes, Steinberg was a bit of a smart-aleck; a high-minded artist that wasn’t above poking you in the ribs or hiding a joke. In one of my favorite pieces from the show, a number of three-letter initials cavort in a typical Steinberg landscape (MGM, TWA, DDT and so on). In the upper left hand corner, written so faintly in pencil that you have to squint to see it, he wrote GOD.
He was a cartoonist to the last.
The show will continue its run at the Smithsonian American Art Museum through June 24. If you happen to be in the DC area before that time, do make an effort to check out the exhibit. Oh, and if you’ve got the cash handy, pick up a copy of the accompanying coffee table book at the gift shop as well. Only $45 softcover!
All Steinberg images © The Saul Steinberg Foundation/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
